


Then the Night Air is Filled with Howling

by Eien_Ni



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Angst, Character Death, Derek Bites Stiles, Established Relationship, F/M, Immunity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eien_Ni/pseuds/Eien_Ni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bite mark isn’t oozing icky black liquid, like what had happened with Gerard, but nothing is happening. He isn’t turning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then the Night Air is Filled with Howling

**Author's Note:**

> My friend got me hooked on Sterek, and then the show, and now I just can't get enough of them! And of course, it was only a matter of time before I wrote something for the fandom, and so here is the first story I am posting. I am very nervous, though, but I hope you like it!

Stiles is dying. He knows that. Not many humans can survive being impaled. His vision is blurry as he struggles to focus on everyone leaning over him. Scott and Allison are there, clutching the other’s hand tightly. Allison is trying not to cry, and Stiles swears that he sees Scott’s jaw twitch.

Isaac, Boyd, and Erica are huddled together behind them. The three of them have worried looks on their faces, and Erica might even be whining lightly. There’s a buzzing in his ear so he can’t be sure.

Jackson has his arms wrapped around Lydia’s waist. The strawberry blonde girl is biting her lip, and is she crying? He’s only seen her cry once before, but just like that time, she still looks beautiful with tear tracks staining her cheeks. Jackson, for once, doesn’t have that smug look on his face. It’s instead replaced by a solemn expression.

And finally, there’s Derek.

Stiles’ heart breaks, and his breath falters. The Alpha is kneeling beside him, fingers digging into his arm as he stares at the bite mark he’d placed on Stiles’ hip.

“Don’t worry, Stiles,” Derek says gruffly. “It will hurt, but it will be over soon.”

But Stiles knows something that Derek doesn’t. Stiles knows that yes, it will be over soon, and yes, it will hurt, but there is something to worry about. He closes his eyes, not wanting to look at anyone.

Ever since Peter had offered him the bite, Stiles has been wary around werewolves, specifically Alphas. He didn’t want to become a werewolf, and with the Alpha pack running around, he didn’t want to take chances. After clearing it with Deaton, he’d asked Lydia if he could drink just a little bit of her blood, every few days, to give himself immunity to the bite.

He hadn’t thought that it would turn out like this in the end.

The bite mark isn’t oozing icky black liquid, like what had happened with Gerard, but nothing is happening. Stiles isn’t healing. He isn’t turning.

And Stiles can tell when Lydia realizes what is going on, because she lets out this shriek and lunges forward, but Jackson stops her and hold her tighter, whispering something into her ear. Scott and Allison are staring in horror, while the three Betas simply cling to each other.

Stiles turns his eyes towards Derek, who has leaned back on his heels. He looks utterly terrified and panicked, not knowing why this is happening, why the bite isn’t taking. A choked sound escapes his mouth, and he leans down, brushing his lips against Stiles’ forehead, cheeks, lips.

Derek carefully maneuvers Stiles so that he’s in his arms, pressed close to his chest, and Stiles squeezes his eyes shut as he listens to Derek’s heart beat rapidly. And right now, in this moment before death takes him, he wishes that he hadn’t had the stupidly brilliant idea of becoming immune to an Alpha’s bite.

An almost hysterical laugh bubbles up, spilling from his lips along with blood. Derek’s fingers gently wipe the blood away, and Stiles feels that he is trembling. And he is so sorry. So sorry that he’s leaving them. So sorry that they’re going to have to pick up the pieces after he’s gone and attempt to arrange them so that the Stiles-shaped hole in their lives is filled.

He draws a shuddering breath. He wants to tell them, but he can’t speak. His lips won’t form the words, and all he can do is stare at them and hope that they can understand what he’s trying to say. And it is silent except for his ragged breathing and the occasional sniffle or sob.

Then he’s too tired to keep his eyes open. He’s too tired to keep breathing. He weakly squeezes Derek’s arm, and this time it’s Derek whose breathing is ragged. No one speaks, no one moves, until Stiles’ arm falls limply at his side.

Then the night air is filled with howling.


End file.
